"You didn't miss the atmosphere?" Mason asked.

"I didn't miss the company. I'm as welcome in a cops' bar as a whore is in church."

One table was occupied, as was one seat at the bar. Rossi turned away from the TV screen long enough to look at them, giving Blues an imperceptible nod that may just have been his jowls catching up with the rest of his head. Donna, a lanky, washed-out blonde with slack skin and a down-turned mouth, was sitting at one of the tables reading USA Today and smoking a cigarette.

Mason and Blues chose a table against the wall that gave them a view out the windows so they could monitor the progress of the traffic jam and the storm.

Donna materialized at their table, setting glasses of water in front of them. She laid her hand on Blues's shoulder.

"Long time, darling. How you been?"

"No complaints that count, Donna," Blues said. "How's life treating you?"

"Same way I treat it. Neither one of us gives a shit about the other. What'll you have on this lovely day?"

"Bring us a couple of burgers, and the coldest beer you've got in a bottle," Blues told her.

Donna wandered back toward the kitchen to turn in their order. Mason unzipped the black satchel he used as a briefcase and handed Blues his copies of the reports.

"I thought you'd want your own set," he explained.

Blues left the reports on the table. "Did Leonard Campbell find religion and decide to let me out?"

Mason shook his head.

"I know Ortiz didn't do it on his own."

"It wasn't the prosecutor's office. It was the judge."

"Judge Carter? You're shitting me!"

Mason shook his head again, watching the replay of Kordell Stewart's Hail Mary miracle pass against Michigan, instead of meeting Blue's head-on.

Blues asked him, "You think that game is going to end differently this time?"

Mason gave up and faced his friend. "No, sorry."

"How much trouble are we in?"

Mason smiled weakly. "It depends on whether we can prove that you didn't kill Jack Cullan and I didn't kill Shirley Parker."

"What about Judge Carter and my bail?"

"Small potatoes compared to capital murder."

Mason filled Blues in on his evening out with Beth Harrell that ended with him saving Ed Fiora's life. He described how Mickey had hacked into Fiora's bank records and been rewarded with a beating by Tony Manzerio. He explained his theory of how Beth could have hiked to Cullan's house, killed him, and returned to her apartment undetected. He detailed his suspicions of Carl Zimmerman and James Toland, making light of his failed surveillance of Zimmerman. He finished with a broad-brush recitation of the scam he'd ran on Fiora with the bank records and the favor he'd unnecessarily cashed in to get Blues released on bail.

"You need a keeper, you know that?" Blues told him when Mason had completed his report.

Donna returned with their burgers and beer. They ate in silence.

"Well, at least you're out," Mason said. "Now we can sort this mess out."

Blues picked up the reports and began reading. Mason waited, hoping for the insight that a fresh look often brings.

"Look at this," Blues said.

He placed the initial report on Cullan's murder in front of Mason. It was dated December 10, the day the housekeeper had discovered Cullan's body.

"Okay, what am I looking for?" Mason asked.

"The report is routine. It covers all the bases, including forensics. The forensics report identifies the location from which every fingerprint was lifted."

Mason read the index of fingerprints closely. "Damn! There's no record of any fingerprints found on the desk in Mason's office. Terrence Dawson testified at the preliminary hearing that's where he found your fingerprint."

"Now, look at this," Blues said, and handed Mason a supplemental report dated December 12, the day Blues was arrested.

" Dawson went back to the scene for a second look. That's when he found your fingerprint."

"Read the first sentence of Dawson 's report on that inspection," Blues instructed.

Mason read it aloud. "At the request of Detective Carl Zimmerman, this examiner returned to the scene to determine if any other identifiable fingerprints were present."

"Zimmerman was a busy boy," Blues said.

"How could Zimmerman have planted your fingerprint?"

"It's not as hard as it sounds," Blues said. "Zimmerman could have made a photocopy of a fingerprint of mine. While the photocopy was still hot, he could have put fingerprint tape down on it and lifted the print. Powdered photocopier toner can be used as fingerprint powder. Then Zimmerman went back to the scene and put the tape down wherever he wanted Dawson to find my fingerprint."

"So where did Zimmerman get your fingerprint?"

"From my personnel file."

"Isn't access to those files restricted? How did Zimmerman get a hold of it?"

"Once Harry started looking at me for the murder, they would have gotten my file without any problem."

"How can we prove your fingerprint was forged?"

"Identification points are the same on all prints from the same finger. That's why fingerprints are so reliable. But no two prints themselves should ever be identical since there's always a difference in position or pressure when the print is put down. If the print Dawson found is identical to the print in my personnel file, Dawson will have to admit it was forged."

"Unless Zimmerman was smart enough to get rid of the original print from your personnel file."

Blues said, "That would have been too risky. If that set of prints turned up missing, there would be a separate investigation of everyone who touched the file. Zimmerman was banking that no one would compare the prints since they had made a new set of my prints when they booked me."

"Which gets us back to the real question," Mason said. "Why would Zimmerman take the risk of framing you?"

"It fits with your theory. Zimmerman and Toland were tired of working for Cullan. They wanted to go into business for themselves, so they killed Cullan. I was a convenient fall guy. Harry already hated me. The mayor wanted a quick arrest. No one wanted Cullan's files to be found. It should have worked."

Mason took the final swallow from his bottle of beer. "I'm going to talk to Harry."

"No way," Blues said. "He'll cover for Zimmerman. That's what cops do."

"Not this time," Mason said. "You find Cullan's files and I'll talk to Harry."

Blues grabbed Mason's wrists with both hands. "You're taking a hell of a risk for both of us. If Harry tips him off, Zimmerman will come after both of us. He won't have any choice. Are you carrying that gun I gave you?"

"No, and you can't carry one either without violating the conditions of your bail."

"Small potatoes compared to capital murder," Blues said.